


The Wolf-Bitch and The Hound

by Bonnie_Lassy



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Confusing Relationship, F/M, Love/Hate, Menstruation, Omg halp, Sexual Content, Sexual Tension, Swearing, Tags will be edited, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-04-12
Updated: 2017-05-27
Packaged: 2018-10-18 01:36:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,677
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10606587
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bonnie_Lassy/pseuds/Bonnie_Lassy
Summary: He tried to taunt her with that name. Wolf-Bitch. He'd call her it any chance he got. It made her sure that The Hounds name must've bothered him at some point, but it didn't bother the girl. For she was wild, determined, stubborn, prideful, a Stark. What was she if not a Wolf-Bitch?





	1. The Start

**Author's Note:**

> This is a WIP! I'm not even really sure where I'm going with this or how it will finish - sorry!  
> I always pick the worst fucking ships with the worse fucking fandoms that are all but dead ahh so I decided to fill the void lol  
> I've never written fan fiction before, but I thought I'd give it a go because I really don't see a lot done in this ship especially recently. Please understand I'm not going to be checking grammer at all or be doing anything fancy as I'm just trying to start writing again and get something down no matter how crude. Please forgive my many mistakes and any guidance does help c: 
> 
> I'd just like to state that though I understand that she's at an acceptable age in the GOT universe, their ages still makes me hesitant. I have chosen to age her up and imply her late period is from malnutrition. 
> 
> Thank you and I hope it's some what enjoyable!

He had gotten her the pony she kept bitching about. Well, he'd stolen it, but what did it matter? At least she hadn't made some snarky mark about that part. She'd just silently followed him as he led the horses away. They had needed the horse if only to stop her from complaining about riding with him and they had pocketed a few coins from selling the remaining horses. She was learning. Before the wolf-bitch might've even drawn her beloved Needle and pointed it in his direction like she had many times before. Drawn it up to his armor and hesitated slightly before she tried plunging it through him. Of course his thick layers had stopped such a miniscule blade, but curse the Starks and their noble pride! It had gotten most of them killed so far. If seeing her brother's corpse mutilated and paraded through a cheering blood hungry crowd of men wasn't enough to teach her that he didn't think it was a lesson she was capable of learning. He wondered not about when she was going to die, he hadn't expected her to make it this far, no he wondered about how. She had managed to escape many painful deaths in her short lifetime. How many had he himself prevented?  
Thinking on this he realized it was impossible not to notice she had changed some in their time together. Maybe he’d just been ignoring it. How long had they been traveling together? How long had he held her captive? He corrected himself. She was a bit older now, not to say she'd grown much malnutrition hadn't been kind, but he'd been able to keep food in her belly for a while now and she was stronger. Still skinny as a stick and never the beauty her sister was. Her grey eyes were as hungry as her desire to strike the names off her list. She practiced at her water dancing every night and he even sparred with her when his mood complied. She was becoming somewhat skilled and had fought alongside him in many scuffles. He'd never admit it but she'd saved his life a few times there. The thought of him making her better able to survive in this cruel life, it brought an emotion he dare not compare to pride to him. He let it burn for barely a second before putting himself in check. Focusing on the cold wind hitting his face he rid himself of his inner thoughts. Pride didn't belong in an old hounds chest. He'd learned just like she was learning now.  
The long ride made her inner thighs ache and they seemed to scream every time she squeezed them urging her pony to keep up with Stranger’s fast pace. The horses strong back was unforgiving and the saddle was rubbing her legs raw. Forcing her face into a neutral expression she rode on. She was Arya Stark and she was prideful, determined, stubborn, the wolf-bitch, but they'd been traveling since before the sun had risen. It had been a sleepless night for her, pains clawed from the inside of her stomach, but it wasn't enough she couldn't bare it. Wasn't enough pain to be worth showing The Hound her weakness. She couldn't be weak. For if she wasn't prideful, determined, stubborn, or the wolf-bitch what was she?  
A wounded animal wasn't easy company and The Hound noticed her silence. Or rather noticed the absence of her constant yammering.  
“What, girl? Not going to grace me with yer ever pleasant company?” He sneered and glanced back at her hoping to draw a rise from her. She'd fallen quite a bit behind. Was it the waning light or did the wolf-bitch look pale atop her pony?  
Like The Hound had focused on the cold moments ago, she focused on the pain coming from the wounds and sores littering her small body, gritted her teeth, and squeezed her legs to bring herself to pace with her companion.  
“Surely you don't miss me, Hound?” Her hollow attempt at banter was not lost on him and he merely grunted as he slowed down looking her over, but she kept her face unreadable.  
Coming up to a ridge he notices again how little light they have left, but spotting a small town in the valley below them he make the rare decision that they're getting a room for the night.  
Riding into the stables of the town's single Inn, Arya perks up, the thought of a bath and bed were beyond a welcoming thought after so much time on the road. She was more tired than she thought, the moment's energy was gone as fast as it came. The Hound dismounted and placed Stranger in his own stall while leading Arya’s pony, with her still on, to its own. It's only when he reaches for her waist to help her down does he see the blood on her legs and the look on her face. Guilt? Shame? He pauses for a moment only to start tearing at her pants. She grabbed at his wrists in a vain attempt to stop his hands, but they quickly revealed the bloody wounds caused by her inexperience. She didn't speak but her eyes were wide enough to startle The Hound momentarily when he looked back up at her. Fear?  
“Why didn't you say anything you daft girl!” He scolds her. They had enough wounds between them for him to be worried about another. How much damage could the girl endure? Before the reward he expected from her remaining family dwindled as fast as her remaining family?  
She let out a whine so unlike her that it made him pause slightly when he lifted her from the saddle. He didn't bother with the mess still on her gear, it'd be taken care of by the stable boy or they'd deal with it in the morning. He had more important things to worry about other than bloodied tack. She must've had something on her mind or the pain was keeping her quiet because the normally noisy bitch stayed silent in his arms. He rather missed her voice taking up the air because at least then he knew she was fine and right now the quiet was rather unsettling  
He paid no mind to the stable boy who stared but quickly looked down to his feet as he carried the bloody girl past him and inside the inn. Paying the innkeeper the fair needed for a room and bath he ignored the look of disgust on the old man's face when his eyes drifted to the bloody mess between her legs. He knew what these people thought of him and he was used to it. He also knew they wouldn't say anything. His money was good and winter was coming. Choosing between helping a strange girl and eating was an easy choice for these people. For all people. “Well, at least for most.” He thought as he carried his burden into their room.


	2. The Inn

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Holy mother of fuck I forgot how difficult writing can be, writers block is a million times worse than artist block damn!  
> In all honesty I'm not satisfied with this chapter and I've rewritten it a few times now, but I think it's an important part in my stories growth so thank you for bering with me ♡

Inside their room The Hound set her gingerly on the edge of the bed, leaving her to shut the door behind them locking it tightly. Although Arya knew they were never really safe having a door, 4 walls, and a roof between them and the evils of the world helped her to relax slightly. The blood was drying sticky on her thighs and now by candle light she could tell there was less than she had thought. In the calm room she could catch the breath she hadn't known she was holding and the panic brought on by the unknown was gone. The raw skin from rough riding was only burning at this point, but unfortunately the feeling in her stomach remained and she placed a protective hand over her belly. After dragging the only chair in the room over to prop up against the door as a secondary measure he came back over.  
She remained silent, occasionally glancing towards The Hound, but careful not to make eye contact. Though the fear that had taken over in the setting darkness had dissipated in the warm room she still felt uneasy. He sat down on the foot of the bed and sighed.  
Grateful for his silence she let herself relax more against the unusual soft comfort of the bed. She wasn't stupid and knew this put both of them into a shit predicament. Knew he'd be pissed. An injury that caused her trouble riding was only going to slow them down. She knew they were already riding slower than The Hound would like because of her inability. She cursed her upbringing and her ineptness. Had she been allowed to spend less time with a needle and more with a horse and sword she wouldn't be in this mess. If only she'd been a man. If only she stopped blaming others for her stubbornness.  
After some time and preparing he finally looked over at her. “Undress.”  
Her previous calm left her as she was caught off guard by his sudden request and bristled at the order. It was a blunt and simple command, but there was no malice behind the words, she should be able to do this easily. She had everything to fear from The Hound, but she shouldn't fear this. In all their time together he'd never given her reason to fear anything but the cruelty of the world and his temper at her smart mouth. On the road there'd been no issues, they had seen all there was to see of each other, but somehow this warm safe room made everything different. Inspect the injury, clean it, dress it, do what must be done and move on.  
“Come on, girl.” He still spoke in his typical gruff manner, but there was something softer to it now. No insulting remark or mocking laughter came.  
She sat there in silence looking downward still unable to look him in the eye. She wasn't sure why but her vim was gone. When he finally realized she wasn't going to move for him he sighed again. Carefully taking her small leg in his hand he began slowly removing her right boot taking extra care not to cause her further pain. She looked so small to him right now, closer to the girl he had known when they first started traveling, but still older and worn from life. Her normal fight was gone, the spark in her eye that separates her from the ladies of court like her sister wasn't there. Though she was more like her sister in this moment than he had ever seen her before. His thoughts lingered on the Little Bird till her sister let out a noise of pain and sucked in a sharp breath between clenched teeth when he set her leg back down on the bed. Was the Wolf-bitch in more pain then she was letting on?  
As he worked the other boot off of her foot her muscles protested the movement, but she could tell that The Hounds hands were not used to gentle touches and that he didn't mean her harm. She tried to be determined and strong through the discomfort, but noted his quick glances up to her face. She must be wearing her discomfort on her face for him to be acting as such. Normally he'd of told her to rub some dirt in it or more likely a much more colorful phrase.  
“I'm going to have to cut off your pants.” He said taking a smaller knife from his belt. His voice was still abnormally soft. “We'll find you something later, but these are done for and you need to clean this up.”  
He brought the knife to a tear in the fabric at her knee without hesitation and she was surprised at herself when she jumped at the touch of the blade. Her hands grabbing at the covers in tight fists caused her knuckles to go white but she successfully steadied herself. If he hadn't seen the look on her face he might've cuffed her atop the head for being so stupid. Would she like a gaping knife wound on her leg to match the saddle burns? Why was she reacting this way? He thought to himself of the other wounds he had dressed of hers, from ones she couldn't reach and others she didn't have the knowledge to treat. She had let him then. Maybe not trusted him, but she had held still and let him get on with it out of necessity. What was different now?Even she didn't really know, but could see the startle turn to confusion across his scarred face and it made her mad. He was the one being abnormally gentle with her, letting her show weakness and vulnerability for once. This was surely The Hounds fault? Why was he such a giant fucking prick all the time, even now? Was the fucker mocking her? It was her stubborn pride, and mostly embarrassment that brought some of her spark back.  
“Just get on with it.” She said as strongly and as impatiently as she could muster.  
She furrowed her brow and focused on the feeling of him cutting up the front of one leg then moving to the other, this time putting a firmer hand on her thigh to steady it incase she jumped again. Even at this time when her body betrayed her she put trust in her sword hand above all else. When he reached for her bloody garment she helped this time instead of hindering his hands at removing her pants. She was particularly gentle with her wounds but still hissed sharply when she peeled the fabric from dried wound.  
Once her ruined pants were discarded on the floor The Hound lifted her up from the bed and leaned her on the edge of the tub. The bath water was still warm, the heat and steam wove up from its surface to greet her. While her eyes were looking at the inviting water The Hound was pointedly staring to the ceiling or anywhere that wasn't Arya. He was failing as his gaze lingered on the blood that trailed up her legs and her sullen but mesmerized face. He tried his best not to let his eyes wander up past her thighs.  
He quickly got up and started to speak “I’ll see if the stable boy has-s- . . ” His voice trailed off. His eyes had betrayed him and were locked on where her smallclothes hid her maidenhood. “Oh.”  
She noticed his gaze and yelled “What the fuck you looking at?!” Her voice and fury returning to her at.  
One of her hands went to cover herself needlessly while the other instinctively reached for Needle who was absent from his usual place at her side. He didn't look away.  
“I was there when your sister flowered too.” He said quietly as though in memory and then spoke with more composure. “Not all that blood is from the saddle, girl.”  
Following his line of sight she looked down, removing the hand slowly from herself and she saw the blood leading from between her legs. Her face went white and the pain in her stomach twisted cruelly again as if to make a point.  
Letting out a small gasp before her brow tightened. “Fuck!” She looked up at him accusingly as though her body's betrayal was his fault. “You're a piss poor liar!”  
Her expression of mixed exasperation and fury made him roar with laughter “Ask her yourself next time you see her! Women bleed, men bleed, everybody bleeds now and then. It's just a bit of blood coming out yer twat!”  
If she was honest with herself his words scared her. The burden of womanhood was a heavy cross to bare and came with many uncertainties. She would have a harder time passing as a lad now. What The Hound saw as an inconvenience she saw as her world changing.  
“Get out.” Her voice was calm and deep, but for some reason he listened.


End file.
